The Prize
by shinchansgirl
Summary: Cato/Peeta. Cato decides it's time to bring an old rule into play. Peeta isn't as thrilled. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

Minor edits because I accidentally uploaded the wrong version. Many apologies. I haven't posted to in a while, so there may be a few formatting quirks as well.

* * *

"So are there any tributes you have your eye on this year?" Caesar asked.

"Well, there is one," Cato hedged, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away towards the audience.

"A possible ally?" Caesar asked. "Or is this a target?"

"Well, if I say 'target' both you and him will probably get the wrong idea," Cato said. "Let's just say that if all goes well, I plan on using the old privileges."

Caesar blinked, hesitating for a moment. "You don't mean-"

Cato nodded. "He doesn't know I have my eye on him yet, though. I don't want to scare him off." Cato laughed a bit at himself, and the audience chuckled with him – even while many were frantically whispering to their neighbors trying to figure out just what privilege he was thinking of.

"Such a tactic can be dangerous for you," Caesar reminded him. "If you are Victor and fail to bring your prize to the end with you…" His voice trailed off, and the audience fell into an expectant hush.

"I'll return to his district instead of mine. And since it would have been my duty to protect him, I doubt I would get a very warm welcome. I'm not worried; I'm going to be victor. No tribute here is going to change that."

"Well there you have it, Ladies and Gentlemen – the confident and gutsy Cato!"

* * *

"What did he mean, Haymitch," Katniss demanded. "What old privilege –there are no privileges in the games."

"You shouldn't worry about it, sweetheart," the mentor told her, waving his hand. The whiskey sloshed where he held the glass, and he frowned at it for a moment. "Cato said his target was male; you just gotta get out of there before the bloodbath starts. Peeta too. He's probably not looking at either of you, but it's best not to take chances."

"What?" Peeta asked. "I mean, I knew that was the plan, but what chances are we talking about?"

"This changes things for you," Haymitch said. "Run before you do anything else. Cato only has ten minutes to announce his prize; once those ten minutes are up, feel free to try and steal weapons or food or whatever – if you can without getting killed."

"I think you'd better tell us what this is," Katniss said. "What if someone else wants this privilege, or we do?"

Haymitch shook his head. "You can't. Sorry, sweetheart, but it's part of the rules – it's likely he wants to claim someone as his pet and prize. He can only do that to someone from a lower district than his."

"So he couldn't claim someone from one or two?" Peeta asked.

"Exactly. It's a _privilege_ of living in a district that is closer to the Capitol and of having the Capitol's favor. Since District 13 is gone, there is no district lower than 12 – so no prize."

"So what happens if someone is claimed," Katniss asked.

"Well that depends. If the one who claimed the prize is killed, then from that point on the Games would be pretty normal for the prize. If the one who claimed the prize is Victor and the prize still lives, then the prize is allowed to live – but don't get excited, sweetheart," Haymitch cut in as Katniss started to open her mouth. "You don't get to go back home. You get to go live with your Victor, who essentially keeps you as a pet and can do anything he likes to you short of killing you."

Katniss paled, and Peeta swallowed hard. "You mean-"

"Hard laborer. Decoration. Toy. Caretaker. Whatever job the Victor wants you to do, you do or he has the right to punish you however he desires. Hell, he could punish you just because he wants to. You have, essentially, no rights. You're one step above Avox, because you only have one master and you get to keep your tongue."

"So why don't more Careers take advantage of this?" Peeta asked. "It seems like they'd be jumping at the chance to get a free-" he gulped, stumbling over the next word: "-pet."

"Two reasons," Haymitch said. "One, the conditions. Only one person can claim a prize during the Games. It must be done within the first ten minutes, the prize must be conscious and subdued, and the Tribute attempting claim must have killed at least two other Tributes before he or she can name a prize.

"If that doesn't turn a Tribute away, then there's number two: the risk. If the prize should happen to be killed during the course of the Games and the Tribute claiming him survive as Victor – he returns to the District of his prize and not his own."

"That's what Caesar and Cato were talking about," Katniss muttered.

"Right," Haymitch confirmed. "That's why a Career hasn't claimed a prize in over 50 years. It's in the Tribute's best interest to choose a prize strong enough to survive, but a Tribute like that isn't easy to subdue and defend in the first ten minutes. And no Tribute likes being owned. Prizes have turned on their captors during the games – killing them in their sleep, or poisoning their food. He has to be confident that he's stronger than the Tribute he wants as prize, strong enough to control them – although Cato's ego is big enough he could be after anyone."

* * *

Peeta scanned what he could see of the arena. Katniss was almost opposite him, closer to the forest where she could make a quick run for it. Behind Peeta was an open field and a lake – and beyond that an uphill climb. The best bet was the forest, but he'd need to cross around a few other tributes to get there.

Next to him were two female tributes; on his left was the tribute from one, Glimmer, and on his right the girl from five. On five's other side was Cato – who had his eyes set on a coil of rope and a short dagger that were placed only about five feet before him.

The countdown ended, and Peeta hesitated only a moment, just long enough for the girl from five to pass him in a mad dash for the cornucopia.

Peeta was making a path for the forest, bending to reach for a backpack that was in easy reach, when a weight slammed into his side. He fell over, rolling with the blow, and cursed himself for taking his eyes off the others.

He froze when the dagger met his throat.

"Good boy," Cato breathed, sounding elated. "Stay still. You cooperate in this," he said, still speaking in a low voice, "I won't kill that Girl on Fire right away. You behave really well and I might make her death quick."

Peeta didn't move, biting his lip as he considered his options. Cato was already looping the rope around one of Peeta's wrists without looking.

"Tell me now, loverboy, or I tell Clove to kill her before she leaves this clearing."

"F-fine," Peeta whispered.

Cato moved the dagger away and focused on tying Peeta's hands together. His gaze shifted immediately to the bloodbath, and Peeta tried to mentally track how much time had already gone by. Surely any Tributes not allied with the careers would have already fled the cornucopia, he thought. Either that or they were already dead.

It hadn't been ten minutes yet, Peeta was certain. Typically the bloodbath was over in around five minutes, though the Capitol played it out over a longer period of time so that different angles could be seen – so deaths that happened at the same time could be seen individually.

Cato hauled Peeta up by his wrists and headed towards the center of the cornucopia. Peeta stumbled as Cato passed by the girl from nine and casually stabbed her in the back. She'd been fighting with the girl from two – Clove – and still had the sword in her hand.

He threw the dagger and it landed in the neck of a boy on the edge of the bloodbath; Peeta didn't know his district, but the boy had a look of shock on his face as he slumped over the sack he'd been stuffing.

That was two tributes. Peeta felt his heart sink as Cato shoved him to the ground and picked up a sword, turning to face the other tributes. Peeta had landed hard at the mouth of the cornucopia – among the supplies. Peeta attempted to inch away, but a sharp tug on the rope Cato held stilled him. "You stay there and stay quiet," Cato said, his voice clear and loud. "Or I send Clove out after your girlfriend."

Someone stumbled into Cato's range, and the career lunged forward and slid his sword through her stomach.

"That's it," the boy from one said. "Did you get enough, or do we need to chase someone down?"

"More than enough," Cato said. He tugged on the rope and hauled Peeta forward, only to shove him down again in an open patch of ground. Peeta almost threw up – his face was only inches from a patch of blood. He couldn't see the body.

Cato put his foot on Peeta's side, just enough weight on it to make certain Peeta stayed down, and raised his sword upwards. "I claim as pet and prize!" he shouted.

For a few tense moments, it was quiet as the GameMakers evaluated the bloodbath, determining if all the requirements had been met. Peeta squinted in the sunlight, trying to gauge if anything was happening, when he heard the beeps signaling a gift from sponsors. It was not the typical silver parachute he'd seen so many years on the televised broadcasts, however. This was a gold parachute with only a small box attached.

Cato shoved the tip of his sword in the ground next to Peeta's head and ripped open the box as he straddled Peeta's side. In moments, Peeta felt a collar he hadn't even had the chance to see snaking around his throat and locking into place.

"There," Cato said. "Now you're mine."

Peeta glared at him. "Only if you survive this – and I do," he growled. "And I don't think you're going to win."

Cato smirked. "Is that why you're being so complacent?" he asked. "Don't worry, I'll definitely win." He leaned down and placed a kiss on Peeta's temple.

Peeta reacted violently, shoving Cato away and causing the other Tribute to slam into a crate of tent supplies. "What the fuck-" Cato started to swear, snarling and snapping his gaze to Peeta.

The district 12 tribute was trembling, staring at Cato with wide eyes. He'd backed away until his neck was pressing against the blade of the sword Cato had plunged in the ground.

Cato immediately softened his approach, raising his hands and making soft shushing sounds. He didn't take his gaze from Peeta, but he saw Clove and Marvel slowly approaching from behind Peeta, ready to step in. Glimmer was staring at Peeta in shock, not moving. "Easy there," Cato said, shifting to his knees and bringing himself just the smallest bit closer. "I'm not going to hurt you, Peeta."

In contrast to the easy words, Peeta was shaking harder, curling in on himself and not taking his eyes from the other Tribute. When it looked like he was going to shove himself backwards – back onto the blade – Cato panicked, and shouted: "Freeze!"

Peeta froze.

Cato stood, a dark frown crossing his face. He obviously wasn't pleased; from what he had previously seen of the two tributes from district 12, he hadn't expected such a strong reaction to such a chaste kiss.

Marvel pulled the sword from the ground and away from Peeta, but the boy didn't seem to notice. He was too focused on Cato, who was crouching down in front of him.

"What's wrong?" Glimmer asked. "Why'd he- you know?"

Cato shrugged. "I don't know. Homosexuality is frowned on in some districts, but I checked with Brutus – 12 shouldn't be one of them. Unless it was just his family. It's not that he's my prize; he was pretty calm about it all until that kiss."

"Figure it out later," Marvel said. "The pair from four are checking the dead. We should set up a camp and organize the supplies."

Cato nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, honesty time: I hadn't really planned on updating this frequently or regularly as my main focus right now is another project (Twist of Fate, a _Dresden Files_ fanfic, which I'm working on editing and posting over on AO3). Everyone seemed so eager to see more, though, that I whipped this up really quick. Please be patient with updates, however, as this is a side project at the moment - I just wanted to get the idea down before it slipped away from me!

* * *

Cato watched Peeta carefully as they set up their camp around the District 12 tribute. He seemed to calm as they worked, seeming to fall asleep. He gave himself away every time Dash, the girl from Four, dropped something.

Cato was beginning to think she was doing it on purpose.

They had cut Peeta off from escape rather simply: by surrounding him with their camp. He was facing the Cornucopia, which they had filled with the food supplies to protect them from any changes in the weather. Behind him was the lake – a good distance off, still, but there was an open plain between the Cornucopia and the lake, so he would be easily visible for quite a distance.

Slightly behind the direction his head pointed was where the tents were to be set up, and the fire would be between the tents and the Cornucopia. Peeta's feet were pointed towards the weapons they'd laid out, surrounded by some very basic traps. Dash knew how to create some practical snares, but it wasn't the type of environment she had prepared for. She was having to modify the traps and Cato wasn't certain how well they would work.

Once Dash and her District partner, Duke, had checked the bodies and the cannon had confirmed the number of deaths, Marvel and Glimmer had helped strip them of anything useful they had picked up, including the jackets and boots they were wearing, and then laid the corpses out for the hovercraft to pick up. Cato and Clove were supposed to be working on setting up the tent and sleeping area, but Clove was doing a good part of the work – and yelling at him about it the entire time.

"Honestly, if I'd known he was going to be this much of a distraction, I'd have stuck the knife in him myself before you could claim him!" Clove snapped.

Cato rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't have dared," he said, picking up a tent pole to slide into place.

"Just because you want him doesn't mean the rest of us do," Clove told him. "He'd better do his part."

"What, you mean stay in camp? He seems to be doing a fine job of that already," Marvel said as he came over, tossing a canteen of water to Clove. "I expected him to have more of a spine."

Cato shrugged. "Something set him off," he said as he set the final pole into place under the canopy. "Finish staking this thing."

Marvel grabbed a hammer and a spike and helped secure the ropes that held the tent stable. Clove was already doing the same on the other side, and Cato did a final check from inside and out to make certain everything was secure and in place.

"Not bad," he said. "Really freaking hot, though."

"Should we open it up?" Clove asked. "Cool it off?"

Cato shrugged. "Do you really think it was the kiss that set him off?" he asked.

A small smile crossed Marvel's face. "Regretting your choice already?" he asked. "Or just afraid he won't put out?"

"Concerned he won't pay attention if someone tries to stick a knife in him," Cato snarled, whirling on Marvel. "And I'll know just who to blame, won't I?"

"I told you it was a bad idea," Marvel countered. "And I still think it is. You can have him if you want him – but don't come crying to us when he ends up dead."

"Oh don't worry," Cato snarled. "I won't be crying to you – I'll be ripping your head off with my bare hands because you failed to protect him."

"That's not my job," Marvel said. "It's yours."

Cato growled, and his fist went flying – hitting Marvel squarely on the eye and knocking him backwards. "Shit!" Marvel yelled as he fell.

But Cato wasn't finished yet. He launched himself after Marvel and landed on top of the other boy, pulling Marvel off the ground by his jacket. "Yes," Cato said. "It is my job to protect him. And we are allies which means – for the time being at least – we are helping each other. Which means it is your job to help me protect him. And if I think for a moment that you're going to fail in that duty, I won't hesitate to kill you. Are we clear on that, Marvel?" Cato asked.

Marvel didn't answer right away, and Cato shook him hard, repeating: "Are we _clear_?"

"Yes," Marvel answered.

"That's what I thought." Cato pushed the other boy to the ground and stood, his eyes immediately going to where Peeta had been laying.

He wasn't there anymore.

"Shit," Cato cursed, eyes searching frantically for the other tribute. "Where is he?"

Clove and Marvel hadn't been watching Peeta – they'd been focused on Cato, who'd been focused on Marvel. Dash had been watching them as well, a spear in her hand and a frown on her face. Both Glimmer and Duke had their eyes outward, ignoring the fight and watching the forest.

When no one answered, Cato gave a solid kick to Marvel's side and yelled: "Find him!"

* * *

Peeta held himself still as he heard the Careers gathering weapons, his heart pounding as Cato shouted orders. He hadn't planned on sneaking out of the camp until nightfall – as much as he had managed to plan, anyways – and he guessed that he still technically _hadn't_ left the camp, but the opportunity had been too good to throw away.

He'd snuck into the cornucopia, behind the food supplies, while everyone else was focused on Cato and Marvel arguing over whether or not Marvel should keep Peeta alive.

It wasn't long before Peeta heard them all leave, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned back against a crate of apples. "I am so screwed," he whispered, hardly daring to breathe the words.

He brought his hands up to his mouth and began to tug at the ties with his teeth, slowly loosening the ropes. With one ear constantly listening for other tributes, he worked at his bonds until he could slip his hands free. He felt around his neck for where the collar was clasped shut, but it felt like one continuous piece of cloth with a bit of stitching on the sides.

Unwilling to waste too much time on the collar, Peeta grabbed a sack and opened it to find loaves of bread. He ripped off a piece, shoved it in his mouth, and started filling the sack with other foods – some apples, bits of jerky, purifying drops for water and a canteen. Only when the sack was full did he make his way back to the opening of the cornucopia – slowly – and look around for the other tributes.

He waited a full two minutes, as long as he could stand, before stepping out of the shelter of the Cornucopia. The weapons were still laying out, the traps only partially set, and Peeta grabbed a sword from the pile, carefully stepping around the sharp teeth of the set animal trap that had yet to be hidden. Sword and food secured, he took off towards the woods and hoped Cato and the others had started their search in the other direction.

* * *

Peeta shivered in the cold night air. He hadn't expected the temperature to drop, or he might have considered other supplies.

He shook the thought away. He hadn't had time to pull all the supplies he needed; he was lucky to have what he did.

Fires were too dangerous, since the smoke could lead Cato straight towards him, so Peeta took shelter in a tree where the trunk had split a few feet off the ground, creating a dip that acted something like a chair. It would protect him from the wind a bit, and help conceal him, but it wasn't high enough to offer much in the way of protection from other tributes.

He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered as the darkness grew deeper, listening to the crickets chirp and wondering just what he was going to do next. His best bet had been to stay with the careers, and that had been the original plan before Cato's announcement. Even after he'd learned of the privilege, he'd planned on coming back and bartering his way into the group if he could.

That was before he'd found out Cato planned to claim him. Before Cato had followed through on his words.

If anything, the night seemed to grow colder. Peeta could see his breath when he breathed out, and he wondered if he'd freeze to death because he'd dared to defy Cato and run off.

This time the shiver wasn't from the cold; it was from remembering that brief, kind, gentle touch.

Gritting his teeth, Peeta forced the memories down. Cato's actions didn't matter now, nor did the other memories that had bubbled to the surface with that touch – they were all the past, and if he couldn't stay in the present long enough to remember that, then he wasn't going to have a future.

A twig snapped, and he drew a sharp breath as he saw a dark shape stumbling through the woods. It was too short to be Katniss, and had too much bulk to it. None of the tributes had any significant weight, but a few were bigger around than others. Peeta himself was one of the larger males, not from an abundance of food but of an abundance of work.

The girl stumbled on, out of sight, and Peeta let out a sigh of relief, settling further into the space formed between the two trunks.

A half hour later he cursed his ill luck: the tribute had made a fire not far from where he'd hid himself, and it was sure to draw the Careers closer.


	3. Chapter 3

Marvel hid the grimace from his face as Cato yet _again_whined about his missing pet. It didn't matter that he was muttering the complaints to himself – in the quiet of the forest, it was loud enough for all of them to hear. Well, all of them except the girl from four, whom they'd sent back to guard the camp while they continued the search for Cato's pet. Marvel hoped they found other tributes, as well. The sooner this was over with the better.

This was _not_ turning out to be the Games Marvel had longed for victory in. He was cold, lonely, annoyed, and already had a headache the size of his alliance.

The pair from four were just barely better than pathetic. Maybe it was just an angle, but it wasn't an angle that would gain sponsors. Nothing about the pair stood out. They were just – average.

Glimmer, at least, he knew was trying to work the sponsors. She was trying to prey on their love of drama and game-play, turning each task into a scene and each scene into a showcase for her assets.

But her voice grated on his nerves, and she was too good of an actress to let hang around long. Glimmer wouldn't think twice about sliding a sword in his gut; they held no loyalty to each other, despite being from the same district.

Clove confused him. She seemed to support Cato in his wants, but she would yell at him too. She was something of a brute, keeping to herself and looking for the next kill.

The one that really aggravated him, though, was Cato. Cato, who had immediately adopted the role of their cocky leader. Cato, who had managed to demean Marvel in front of his allies and all of Panem. Damnit, his mother probably saw that humiliating take down.

And damn Cato, who had the balls to attempt and succeed at doing what no other tribute had dared to do in 50 years.

"Gonna tie him to the stupid tent when I find his stubborn ass," Cato muttered. "Maybe I can find a stake and a leash. He _needs_ a leash."

Really, he hadn't even known the boy long enough to know if he was stubborn or not. If anything Peeta seemed to be more of a frightened yet clever little wimp. Which probably made him smarter than Cato – which was pathetic. The pet was a _twelve_.

* * *

They were getting closer to the smoke that had started climbing in the sky, close enough that Cato had stopped worrying (for the moment) and Marvel had stopped glaring at the world and started scanning the forest for traps. The girls had long since stopped chattering, having run out of conversation topics.

"Spread out," Cato whispered, crouching a bit and holding his sword in the ready position.

Marvel tightened his grip on his spear for a moment, a brief frown crossing his forehead, before nodding and slipping off into the trees. Glimmer and Clove similarly moved away, though a bit more noisily. They were still quieter than Cato had expected from his fellow tributes so early in the Games. Right now, they were only seeking those from lower districts, who probably wouldn't notice if a stampede of horses came through the forest.

Though, from what Cato had heard, lower districts didn't even _have_ horses.

The target, he knew, was in front of him and slightly to the left, but he was keeping an eye out for traps anyways. This early in the Games, it was probably someone stupid who was just trying to get warm, but there was always the chance that there was an ambush waiting, or that the smoke was just a distraction.

He was almost disappointed when no one came at him from behind, and he was able to walk freely into the small circle of light created by a small campfire. The girl – he guessed she was from five or six, though he hadn't paid much attention – had been there long enough to lay down and fall asleep next to the dying embers. Clove and Glimmer walked into view from the opposite side of the fire, and, a few moments later, Duke did as well. Marvel was behind him, looking amused. "I guess someone really was that stupid," he said, not bothering to soften his voice.

The girl slept through it, not even twitching. "What was really stupid was lying out in the open when she's such a heavy sleeper," Cato tagged on.

"Oh – oh! Can I kill her?" Glimmer asked, bouncing slightly on her toes. She looked giddy, and very eager.

Clove scoffed at her, and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" Glimmer asked.

"If it takes five of us to kill that thing, then we have no shot at winning," Clove answered. "This is useless. I'm going back to camp."

No one stopped her, though Glimmer was still pouting. "What a spoilsport," she whined. "Though – does that mean I _can_ kill her?"

At some level, the conversation must have been disturbing the sleeping tribute's rest. She was peering out at the group through eyes still half-lidded with sleep, and not yet at the stage where she could process the danger she was in. Cato waved his hand. "Go ahead then," he said.

Glimmer landed a solid kick to the tribute's back. "Wakey-wakey!" she called out with a grin. "Let's see those pretty eyes of yours."

The tribute scrambled, rolling just shy of scorching herself in the fire. "P-please," she whispered, trembling.

"Such a cutie," Glimmer smiled, pulling out the dagger she'd strapped to her thigh. "You know, hun, that presents a problem for me. Do you know why?"

Slowly, the girl shook her head. Her eyes were fixed on the dagger, and she seemed to have forgotten the three other tributes in the clearing.

Glimmer tossed the dagger up in the air a few times, catching it by the blade. "I'm supposed to be the only cutie around here," she said, just before tossing the dagger and landing it with deadly accuracy in the tributes throat.

"Yay!" Glimmer cheered, raising her hands and bouncing again.

The girl's hands rose to the dagger, and Glimmer frowned as the other tribute started choking on her own blood, attempting to breathe around the blade in her neck. A few moments later, she collapsed. The cannon sounded, signaling her death.

"My aim must have been off," Glimmer pouted, striking yet another pose. "What a boring way to die."

"Are we finished?" Cato asked. "There's still more tributes to find."

"Oh don't worry so much," Glimmer said, waving away his concern. "I'm sure your boy-toy is out there and perfectly fine. You've already claimed him, so he just has to worry about staying alive. Well, unless you die, then it could get messy." She seemed almost thoughtful about that, tilting her head to the side and pursing her lips. "Then again, it could get messy anyways, if you're planning on sleeping with him. Of course, there is the fact that there aren't any beds to sleep on, and I'm sure this sun is just horrid on my complexion. I'm going to miss all my beauty sleep, too."

"Don't worry," Marvel said with a smile. "You'll get plenty of beauty sleep when you're dead."

"I thought the expression was 'I'll sleep when you're dead'?" Glimmer asked, seeming to be honestly confused.

"That too," Marvel answered.

"Let's _go_," Cato said again. "The sooner we start moving, the sooner we can all get some sleep."

* * *

Peeta waited in the tree's embrace, hearing the Careers talking and joking and shivering with more than the cold. Cato sounded beyond angry, and Peeta could only hope that they would pass by without noticing him – that a few days in the arena would help them to forget he was a 'pet.' He wasn't going to survive long, he knew that much, but he certainly didn't think hanging out with the Careers was going to make his life any longer. At least, not anymore.

Marvel had seen him. While he wasn't entirely sure why the Career had kept quiet about where he was, Peeta was grateful for the favor.

He had no plans on paying it back, though. The look in Marvel's eyes hadn't been friendly.

Peeta huddled down further and tried to keep his eyes open. He could hear the Careers moving away, hear the hovercraft moving in to take the body, and the adrenaline was leaving him. His heart was slowing down from the pace of a frightened rabbit, and he wondered just how long he expected to make it in these woods.

As long as his food supplies lasted, he guessed. He had no idea what else was edible, and he doubted he'd be able to find and kill any animals. He'd have to stick close to the camp – at least within a day's walk of it – just so he could go back and steal supplies.

He swallowed hard as he realized he could very well get caught retrieving those supplies.

Peeta let his head thump against the tree trunk as he looked up at the false sky. 'Okay, Haymitch,' he mouthed, not daring to let a sound escape. 'What do I do now?'


	4. Chapter 4

Peeta woke with the sunrise, curled as tightly as he could manage into his nook of the tree. He'd tucked his hands under his arms, but his fingers were still red and numb from the cold. He was shivering a bit, but he slowly started to warm as he rubbed his hands together and started moving.

He attempted to stand and stumbled a bit when his legs weren't ready to hold his weight. Peeta tried to rub some warmth into them as his nerves tingled with returning blood flow. "Blankets would have been good," he muttered. "Or gloves."

"Good luck with that. I don't think the Careers even have gloves," said a familiar voice.

Peeta's head snapped up, startled. "Katniss! What are you…" he trailed off, uncertain how to finish his question.

"I was close by," she said. She motioned to her neck. "What's that?"

"Cato's idea of a fashion statement," Peeta said bitterly, rubbing his hands along his arms to try and warm himself up more.

"So it _was _you."

"It doesn't matter," Peeta said. "I won't be his."

"Even if it means you get to live?"

Peeta hesitated a moment before saying: "I don't love _him_, Katniss."

After a moment she caught on, and a bit of red filled her cheeks. "Maybe we should move on," she finally said. "Find food – water."

"I thought you didn't want to be allies."

"Honestly, I don't," she said, turning her back to him. "But sometimes you have to do things you don't want to."

Peeta looked down, his shoulders slumping. "I have some food and water," he said. "Breakfast?"

Katniss nodded. "While we move – we're too close to their camp. If they find us, I'm dead. And who knows what they'll do to you."

"We'll have to kill them eventually," Peeta said, swallowing hard as he picked up the sack of stolen food. He picked the sword up awkwardly. "Think we can do it?"

"If we wait for them to kill each other we won't have to. We just have to survive."

"You mean you do."

Katniss paused, turning back to Peeta for a moment. "What?"

"Don't look so surprised," Peeta laughed, obviously nervous. "My own mother doesn't think I'm going to survive this." He bit back the lump in his throat that threatened to rise. His mother had come to say goodbye, as was expected, but she had acted like Peeta was already dead. Like Katniss had won, Peeta had died, and life had gone on without missing a beat. Then she'd kissed his temple and he'd flinched on reflex – it was a bit fuzzy after that, but it didn't matter.

"Peeta!" Katniss hissed, her voice sharp.

Peeta shook himself, realizing he'd started to lose himself in his thoughts. That was dangerous while he was in the arena. "Sorry, you were hungry right?" he asked, reaching into the bag and pulling out a slightly bruised peach. "Here."

Katniss took it, her eyes narrowed. "Keep alert," she said. "The Careers are still out there."

"Right."

* * *

They'd kept a brisk pace for several hours and had yet to see more than trees. While Katniss would typically not have a problem being alone in the woods for hours, she wasn't exactly alone. She'd been unable to shrug off the feeling that she owed Peeta for the time he'd saved her family, so she'd been unable to leave him shivering in the tree by himself. Now that he was following her, she was remembering every reason why she hadn't wanted to pair up with anyone.

The more time she spent with him, the harder it would be to kill him.

_Or not,_ she thought as Peeta stepped on yet another twig. If there had been any game in the area, Peeta had long since warned it off. She didn't have a bow, either, so she needed all the advantages she could get.

"Why do you think he chose you?" she asked, trying to ignore the sound of rustling leaves behind her.

Peeta didn't answer right away. When she glanced back, he looked troubled. "I didn't stay long enough to find out," he finally said.

"But you must have some idea," she pushed. "He was always watching you in training."

"He was?"

"You didn't notice?"

"I was more concerned with the way he was hacking through training models like they were nothing."

"Maybe he was showing off."

"For the gamemakers, yeah. A lot of the tributes were."

"So why'd you run away? Guy like that might win, and he has strong allies. You have a better change with him than with me."

"You're assuming he doesn't get mad and decide living in 12 is better than living with me," Peeta said, voice softer. "If he thinks at all when he's mad."

"He does seem rather…" Katniss paused, unsure of the right word.

"Volatile," Peeta said. "And cocky."

"What will you do if he does win and it's – you know – you and him?" Katniss asked, ducking a low branch and pausing for a moment on the other side. Moving with Peeta was slower – and louder – but she was getting answers.

Peeta shrugged. "Survive, I guess. Like always."

"Maybe it'll be better than that," Katniss hedged. "You never know."

Peeta frowned at her as he slumped to the ground under a tree. He was sweating lightly, and he wrinkled his nose at his own stench. "He probably just wants me to move his furniture or something. I doubt he wants me for my skills in making cakes," he said.

"He may change his mind when he tastes one."

"You didn't."

Katniss looked away. After a moment, she said: "I never got to thank you. For that day. I always meant to, but I never did. You saved my life. My sister."

"I tossed you some burnt bread," Peeta said. "Had I been braver, I would have walked the fresh loaves to you."

"Had you been braver, you might have had a cracked skull to go with that black eye," Katniss almost laughed.

"You noticed that?"

"Of course."

Peeta's face looked decidedly sour. "Why don't we keep moving. If Cato finds me, I'll get a black eye to match the last one." With a bit of effort, he stood. "Which way?"

Katniss rolled her eyes. "Downhill, of course. Same way we've been going all morning."


	5. Chapter 5

Peeta woke with a startled jump, still shivering with the cold. Something, real or a dream, had frightened him into instant awareness, and he couldn't remember what it was. Nothing seemed out of place; he was wet with the morning dew, and he could see his breath in the air, but it was quiet and eerily peaceful. "Katniss?" he called out quietly, looking up into the tree where she had slept the night before. "You awake yet?"

There wasn't any answer. Peeta shivered for a moment, his body shuddering, before looking up into the tree Katniss had climbed to sleep to night before. "Katniss?" he called again, slightly louder.

Still no answer.

Peeta breathed on his hands and rubbed them together, trying to warm them, and stood on stiff legs. Stomping his feet a bit to work out the cold and rubbing his arms with nearly numb fingers, he circled the tree while looking up.

Katniss was gone.

He began to scan the ground level and the trees in an ever-widening lip around where they had slept. On occasion he would call out her name and wait a few moments to see if she would answer. She never did.

When he could no longer pretend she'd simply stepped away for a moment to freshen up, Peeta returned to the tree and slumped down to the ground. He pulled out a piece of bread and nibbled on it to pass the time while he tried to convince himself she was coming back. He wasn't going to give up on her. She'd simply gone to get some berries to eat or find some water, and she hadn't deserted him.

Reminded of his growing thirst, Peeta dug through his supplies until he found the canteen. It didn't take long; he hadn't been able to grab much, and they had already eaten most of the fruit. He still had a pair of apples, some bread, the canteen, and the sword he'd stolen. Opening the canteen, he wondered what he was going to do for supplies. He hadn't exactly planned his escape. He'd just grabbed what he could and ran.

Peeta's thoughts stalled as he realized the canteen was empty. It hadn't been when he'd gone to sleep last night, so Katniss – or someone else – must have gotten into it.

"Damn it, Katniss," he said as his head thunked back against the trunk of the tree. "Where'd you go?"

* * *

Cato looked up from sharpening his sword as Duke returned to camp half dragging the small boy from three. "Would have been easier to kill him in the woods," Cato told him.

The small boy flinched, trying to hide behind the District four tribute. "He says he can help us in exchange for a few days life," Duke said. "Since I'm tired of guarding the camp instead of hunting down tributes, I thought we might consider his offer."

"Depends on what he's offering," Cato said, "because I wouldn't trust him to guard an apple."

Duke shoved the boy forward. "Go on then. Tell him."

"T -t -the min -n -nes," the boy stuttered. "From t -t -the ped -d -dastols."

"What about them?" Cato asked. "And stop shaking. You're going to make someone angry with you before you even get the words out."

The boy swallowed, and tried to speak clearly despite his still shaking chin. "I c -c -can move them a -and activate t -them."

Cato considered the other tribute's words, then said: "Prove it."

"What?"

Cato used his sword to point to a tree. "Move one of the mines over there. Activate it. We'll throw a rock at it or something to set it off. If you manage to move it without blowing yourself up, and it works, you can set up a maze for the weapons."

"What about the food?" Duke asked.

"Let's see if he survives first," Cato answered as he inspected his blade, checking for defects. "Well?" he asked. "What are you waiting for? Go."

As quickly as he could, the District Three tribute scrambled towards the mines.

"Any word on my prize?" Cato asked Duke as they watched the District Three boy begin working.

"The boy hadn't seen anyone, and the only tracks I found were too small and light - probably Eleven's female," Duke guessed. "She's small enough, but I lost the trail after a while."

"Pathetic."

"I found this kid, didn't I?"

"Are you forgetting we're meant to kill tributes, not gather them up like strays?" Cato asked.

"The boy's useful."

"You hope. Doesn't matter, I guess. Both are easy to get rid of when the time comes. I'm just disappointed you missed the opportunity. The sooner they're gone, the sooner the games end. I guess it's also too much to hope you found any sign of the girl on fire?"

"Someone ran off in the direction you said and left a huge path downhill. That's where I found him," Duke said, waving his hand towards the District Three male, "but the trail went on."

"I'll follow it after our demo."

Duke nodded, keeping a careful eye on where the new boy was pulling up the ground with his bare hands. "Do you think she's going to meet up with your boy?"

Cato shrugged. "Doesn't matter. So long as he has food and water, he can take care of himself. She's a problem, though. We need to get rid of her before she takes all the fun out of the Games. She got an eleven for a reason."

"We don't know what the reason is," Duke complained. "How could we possibly prepare?"

"We don't," Cato answered. "We just kill her."

* * *

Peeta stumbled as he walked through the woods. It was getting late and he had yet to find any of the other tributes. His water supply was also getting low. If he did not find water soon, he would have to head back to the cornucopia and attempt to steal water and food from the Careers. Peeta was not looking forward to returning to their camp.

He had not seen Katniss all day and he could not find her trail. He had almost given up hope of seeing her again, but the games would continue for several days yet and there was the chance they would meet before the end.

Peeta leaned against a nearby tree and played with the collar around his throat. While the night had been cold almost to the point of freezing, Peeta was sweating with the effort of moving through the woods. He knew it wasn't good; if he was still wet with sweat when the sun went down, he would likely freeze. It also meant he was losing water fast, and he didn't have any new water to drink and rehydrate himself.

"It's a forest," he muttered to himself. "There are trees and animals, there has to be water somewhere." He'd finished off the fruit in the hopes it would stave off his thirst, and it had helped a little. It wasn't enough, but his head wasn't spinning yet. He knew better than to eat the rest of the bread; it would only soak up what little moisture was left in his mouth.

Shoving himself away from the tree, Peeta moved on. He tried to move slowly to conserve his energy and ensure he kept his wits about him for as long as possible, but his legs gave out after a few more steps. With a small laugh, he turned himself over to lay on his back and stare up at the sky. He knew where the problem lay: he was a baker, not a hunter or a hiker. His strength was in his arms, and it was his legs which had begun to buckle under the pressure. He curled on his side and watched the wind rustle the bush beside him.

"Guess they were right," he said to no one in particular. "I really am going to die out here alone. Sorry Katniss."

He closed his eyes and waited.


	6. Chapter 6

Cato had a small moment of panic when he saw a body in a heap on the forest floor and recognized his prize, Peeta. The boy must have somehow circled back around closer to camp and just happened to wander into the area Cato was searching for signs of other tributes.

Silently, Cato thanked whatever sponsor had bought him that favor.

Peeta was pale, but he was still breathing. And not quite to the brink yet, because his eyes snapped open and he sat up quickly when he felt Cato's eyes lingering on him.

"I knew you wouldn't go far," Cato smirked, watching the other boy closely. "It was only a matter of time before I found you."

"Finally grow a spine big enough to start searching on your own?" Peeta asked, standing slowly.

"I always had a spine," Cato said, eyes doing a quick survey of the other boy's body. He was sweating lightly and his face was pale. "Making certain you don't break yours is a new challenge."

"I'll worry about my own spine after I break yours," Peeta muttered as he held the sword up between them.

"You don't really mean to fight me, do you?" Cato asked. "You'll live longer as my ally than my enemy."

"I am no one's slave," Peeta replied.

"Of course not. You're mine. I have other plans for you."

"You have to catch me first," Peeta said. He rushed forward and swung the sword he held in an obvious attack Cato easily blocked. For a brief moment Cato was impressed; despite how tired Peeta looked he still had quite a bit of strength in his swing and still moved at a decent pace. Then he didn't have time to think as he was moving his blade to meet Peeta's again.

For several minutes all he could hear was the clang of swords bashing together. Then Cato swung his sword in a low arc and caught the skin of Peeta's leg.

Peeta cried out in pain and fell to his knees.

"That's enough," Cato said sharply. "Drop the sword. I'm taking you back to camp."

Peeta panted for a moment, watching Cato without obeying, and didn't say anything. He was in obvious pain and his leg was bleeding freely, but he didn't move.

"Why me?" Peeta finally asked.

Cato shrugged. "I want you."

"That's not an answer. If you just wanted me you could have taken me that first night, no matter what I wanted. You didn't have to do this." Peeta swayed a bit as he gestured to the collar, and Cato sheathed his sword as he watched the other boy.

"Is that what people do in twelve? Take who they want and throw them away the next day?"

"Depends," Peeta replied, dropping the sword. Cato didn't think it was by choice.

He took advantage anyways and rushed forward to grab Peeta and inspect the wound on his leg. It was worse than he'd hoped but better than it could have been. The bleeding had already slowed considerably.

When Cato realized the other boy had passed out, he laid Peeta down on the forest floor and opened his water bottle, using some of the liquid to clean the cut on Peeta's leg. Once he was finished, he cut the rest of Peeta's pant leg off and used the strips to wrap the wound. He grabbed Peeta's sword with one hand and then hefted the boy over the opposite shoulder in a fireman's carry. Once he was steady he started moving towards camp.

With Peeta injured it wouldn't be the safest place, but they didn't have supplies. Cato paused, uncertain. Not too long ago he had discovered a cave near the river where it was mostly hidden. The other careers didn't know he'd found his prize yet. If he could be certain Peeta would stay, he could hide the boy in the cave and then get supplies from the camp. But Peeta wasn't likely to stay in one place long. Not unless Cato could somehow make him stay. It certainly wouldn't be a long-term solution either; the others would notice the constant drain of supplies.

Clove was the thinker in their pair. Cato was used to ordering people around, but not strategizing.

He turned and headed towards the cave. It would buy him some time at least, and he needed to think.

* * *

"Back so soon?" Marvel asked, sharpening a spear blade by the fire.

Cato only gave him a brief glance before moving towards the cornucopia. "Had an idea. Get everyone together." He grabbed an apple from the stash and bit into it. The boy from three looked at him nervously, and Cato scowled back. "If those mines aren't set by tonight, you don't eat," he growled.

The boy ducked his head back down and went back to work. Despite his obvious nerves, his hands were steady and he didn't hesitate.

The four Career tributes gathered by the fire, missing the pair from District Four. "Where's the other two?" Cato demanded.

"Out hunting," Clove answered.

Cato rolled his eyes, snorting. "Right. Too bad for them. I had an idea."

"Really?" Clove asked. "Did it hurt?"

"I don't know – does it hurt to breathe?"

Clove frowned. "No."

"I can fix that for you."

"If you're just going to tease each other then I'm going to go clean up in the lake," Glimmer said with a pout.

"You see, that's the problem," Cato hissed out between his teeth, shifting his focus away from his District partner. "It's day three and we've barely made any progress. Most of it was on the first day. We started with 24. Subtract our alliance and that leaves us with 17 enemy tributes to take out. How many did we kill the first day?"

"Nine," Marvel answered, leaning back and yawning.

"So there were eight left after the first day. How many yesterday?"

"Three," Clove muttered. "Plus we've got one right here, so we've got four left to find."

"Who?"

"The brute from ten," Glimmer said, crossing her arms and still pouting. "All brawn and no brains."

"The redhead – forget her district, but she looked like a thief," Marvel put in. "Sneaky."

"The girl on fire," Cato said bitterly.

"The littlest girl," Clove said after a moment's hesitation. "The really young one."

"Your pet is out there somewhere too," Marvel pointed out, curling his lip up. "Or are we finally allowed to kill him?"

"You kill him and I will gut you," Cato warned. "You all agreed before the games started."

"Yes, but he was supposed to bring us the girl on fire," Glimmer whined. "I only went along with it because he was cute and I thought I might get to see some kissy-face. I would _love_ to see girl-on-fire's face when you kissy-face him." She grinned, showing her teeth. "Serves her right for taking the eleven that _should_ have been mine."

"There will be no kissing Peeta unless we find him, which is not our top priority right now. He still helps us get the girl on fire," Cato grit out, scrunching up his nose in distaste.

"How?" Clove asked. "We don't have him anymore."

"No, but the fire-girl doesn't know that her lover-boy's run off yet. We make it look like he's here, draw her out, and kill her."

"And how do we do that?" Marvel pushed. "Unless you have a handy Peeta clone?"

"No, but we do have a disposable tribute," Cato said, nodding his head towards the boy from three. "We'll put him with the weapons, under some blankets so it's not obvious who he is, and let the others draw their own conclusions. The pair from four can guard the camp; they should be able to handle the girls, at least. We'll worry about the brute last. The rest of us will go out in 12 hour shifts, staggered every six hours, and find the other tributes. Drive them towards the camp if you can't manage to kill them yourselves. If you find my prize, bring him back here alive and unharmed."

"And what about his kissy-face problem?" Glimmer muttered.

Cato frowned. He still didn't understand why Peeta seemed terrified of affection, but he didn't have time for the mystery at the moment. "I'll deal with it," he said.

"We'll start tonight, once three gets the mines set. I'll take the first hunt. Marvel, tell the two from four the plan when they get back."

Clove followed Cato as he stalked off, but didn't speak until she'd followed him into the tent. "What was that about?" she demanded in a whisper. "When did _you_ start planning?"

"Since I spent 24 hours in the game without a decent kill," Cato huffed.

"And if the fire-girl really goes after three, thinking he's her lover-boy? They'll both die, and possibly take half the weapons with them!"

Cato grinned. "That's the point."


End file.
